No Time Like the Present
by jessreadsff
Summary: What if instead of Ichabod traveling forward in time to combat the impending apocalypse, Abbie traveled back in time to the 18th century? Sleepy Hollow. Ichabbie.
1. Chapter 1

No Time Like the Present

Summary- What if instead of Ichabod traveling forward in time to combat the impending apocalypse, Abbie traveled back in time to the 18th century?

Just a heads up- Major ichabbie shipping in this one y'all, so if that's not your thing, I'm sorry.

**Chapter 1 **

**Abbie's POV **

I woke to the sound of insistent knocking. Ugh! Who the hell could be at my door so early in the morning, and how did they get into my apartment?

"Abigail!" A woman's voice I didn't recognize called out urgently from the other side of the door.

I stumbled out of bed and blindly made my way to my bedroom door, too tired and annoyed to even bother flicking on my bedside lamp. I flung the door open and jumped backwards at the sight in front of me. Before me stood a woman dressed in full on colonial attire with an annoyed look on her face.

_Oh she was annoyed?_

She let out a long, exasperated sigh. "And you're not even dressed yet? I honestly don't know why Mrs. Crane puts up with you." The woman then walked past me into the room... and lit a candle?

The candle light illuminated the room enough for me to get a good look around. Okay, this was not my bedroom. This room was about the same size as my bedroom, but my computer was missing from the desk in front of the window, the only clothes storage seemed to be a large trunk that sat at the end of the small four poster bed, and a small fireplace was where my television should be!

"Well don't just stand there, Abigail! Put these on," the woman interrupted my bewildered thoughts, and began tossing white garments at me.

I couldn't make heads or tails of most of it, and I was apparently moving much too slow for her liking. She released yet another exasperated sigh, and began helping me into my clothes.

"Um, who are you?"

"Martha. You met me when the Mrs. hired you last month. Do you not remember?"

"Mrs. Crane, you mean?" I asked remembering what she'd said earlier. "Is this her house then?" Martha nodded as she tied a white apron around the dark gray dress I was now wearing.

"You'll have to do your hair yourself, Abigail, as I'm not familiar with it. Please be quick about it though. Mr. Crane has been badly injured in battle, and I have orders to bring you to Mrs. Crane's side at once. Lord knows why she thinks her new housemaid will be of any use to her dying husband. Be downstairs in three minutes," she ordered, and then left the room.

What?

**A/N**

**So, let me know what you think. Is it worth continuing? **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer- I don't own Sleepy Hollow or its characters**

**A/N**** I know a few of you guys were concerned about this plot because it is set in a very barbaric time in American history for black people. Rest assured that the issues of slavery and inequality will be discussed, but this is a love story at its core.**

**Chapter 2 APOV**

"Now I remember why I decided against going natural," I muttered to myself as I finished pulling my hair into long side braid. A few wayward curls escaped but I had no means and no time to correct them.

My feet seemed to have remembered what my mind had forgotten, and I soon found myself standing in front of the front door. Martha appeared from a door to the left with a small stack of papers in her hand.

She walked past me and motioned for me to follow. I followed her out to a rickety-looking carriage, and hoisted myself inside. I sat across from Martha on the wooden bench seat beneath the only window in the small, wooden box.

"The journey will be a short one. Only three hours. Mrs. Crane insisted that you ride in here with me instead of having you walk, which is customary. She also reminded me to bring these. As if I'd forget documentation of this level of importance." She handed the small stack of papers to me. "I'm sure you recognize your emancipation papers."

I felt my eyes widen as I stared down at my full given name surrounded by 17th century gibberish. The gist of it though was that I had been a free woman since my birth. January 3rd 1754. If I was currently 28 in this time as well, that would make the year 1782.

"What's the date?" I asked as I pulled back the sheet of fabric that covered the small, carriage window. There was a slight nip in the air, but it wasn't cold enough for winter...

"I'd caution you against that, Abigail. We don't want any trouble." I gave her a confused look and she pointed outside to an older white man with a shocked expression on his face. I quickly dropped the fabric back in front of the window. "And to answer your question, it's September, 19th."

"And the year?" I asked, figuring I might as well double check.

She raised an eyebrow at me. "1782. As I recall, Grace assured Mrs. Crane that you were well educated, Abigail. Does Mrs. Crane have reason to doubt the validity of that statement?"

I ignored her condescending tone, silently reminding myself that I wasn't a 21st century woman anymore. "Grace?" I asked. All these new names and mentions of people I'd never met...

Her expression changed from condescending to concerned. "Grace Dickenson. Your mother. Are you well, Abigail?"

"Never better," I lied.

**A/N**

**short I know, but I just had to get something out to you guys this week. I will be posting short little chapters like this at least once weekly. That's just how I roll, so I hope that's okay with y'all. I have to divide my fanfic writing time between this story and my Hunger Games story that I'm working on. Anyway next chapter Abbie and Ichabod meet for the first time *squeal***

**I hope you all had (or are having) a very Merry Christmas, Happy Hanuka, Joyous Kwanza or whatever you celebrate!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Abigail, wake up," Martha commanded as she shook my shoulder with a little more force than was probably necessary.

"1754," I slurred as I was jostled back into wakefulness.

"This is as far as I go, Abigail. John will escort you the rest of the way."

I looked to the door of the little carriage, and saw a young, black man of a bout 30 offering his hand to me. I gathered my emancipation papers, took his hand and stepped out of the carriage... and onto a battlefield. Well technically it looked as if the battle had already been fought, but still.

"Follow me, Abby," the man, John, instructed as he began walking toward a white tent.

"Do I know you?" I asked, confused at his familiarity with me.

"For most of your life," he replied as we walked briskly past the tent, which I could now see housed wounded soldiers, and into the woods-"

"Hold it!" We turned to see a soldier stalking toward us. "Where do you two think you're headed?" He addressed John only, and I fought hard not to tell him where he could go.

"We were summoned by Mrs. Crane, Sir. We are employed by her and her husband."

"Employed?" The man scoffed in disbelief.

I thrust my papers out in front of me in his direction. John did the same, but in a more respectful manner. The soldier snatched both sets of documents from us, and scanned them briefly.

"Go on then," he commanded gruffly, handing both sets of papers back to John.

"Yes sir," John readily agreed, and as if he knew I was about to do something stupid, he took my hand in his, and hurried me into the trees. "Do you want to end up in the fields!"

"He can't do that," I retorted.

"Did you hit your head, girl? You think you're untouchable because of these?" He shook the papers in front of my face. "These mean nothing unless they say it does. That man could have you picking cotton before you had time to blink, and don't you forget it. I promised your mama I'd look out for you, but I can't protect you fr-"  
"Okay! I'll be more careful," I promised.

"Thank you, John," a voice came from behind me. I turned to see a beautiful redhead woman standing there dressed from head-to-toe in white. "You may leave us now."

"Yes, Mrs. Crane," John said with a small bow, and left me with the strange woman.

"Ms. Mills, I know that you do not know me, but you must trust me. The fate of the world as we know it depends on it."

"Pardon my French, but what the hell are you talking about?"

She balked at my language for a moment, but quickly recovered. "I know that this will all sound strange to you, and I don't have time to explain it all right now. Please follow me."

With that, she turned and headed back the way she came. I followed her as if compelled to do so. The forest seemed to grow darker the deeper we drifted into it, but I couldn't bring myself to be afraid. We soon came upon a man lying in a circle of candles.

"Is he..."

"No, not yet," Mrs. Crane answered quickly. "He is one of the reasons why you are here. I need your help to save him."

"I don't have any medical training. What can I do?"

"The oleander is keeping his soul from leaving his body completely," she explained as she pointed to the pink flower petals melting into the white candle wax. "All you have to do is call to him. Though you haven't met before, his soul will recognize yours as that of his fellow witness."

I shook my head, not understanding the meaning of half of what she said, but lowered myself to my knees, kneeling beside his head, and looked to Mrs. Crane for instruction.

"Ichabod. His name is Ichabod; he's my husband," she supplied.

I cleared my throat. "Ichabod," I began calling to him in a timid voice, feeling silly. I continued calling to him for what I estimated to be the next five minutes, my voice gaining more confidence the longer I called out to him. I looked to Mrs. Crane with a look of desperation when it seemed that me calling to him wasn't working, but then I heard a sputtering cough from the man below me and then the bluest eyes I'd ever seen met mine.

**A/N **

**Phew! Sorry this took so long guys, but I've been busy with moving back to college for my final semester! Let me know what you guys think of the chapter. Talk to you soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Thank heavens. Ichabod? Ichabod, can you hear me?" Mrs. Crane scrambled to the man's side, nearly knocking me over in the process.

"Katrina? What are you doing here?" He looked wildly around him, probably expecting to see the battlefield Martha had brought me to, instead his eyes landed on me.

"Who are you?" His voice wasn't accusatory, but the slightly awed tone in his voice made me nervous for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.

"Ichabod, this is our new housemaid, Abigail Mills. You've met her mother, Grace before. Abigail, this is my husband, Ichabod Crane."

"Lovely to meet you Ms. Mills." he reached out to shake my hand, and winced with pain.

"Here, let me help you." I rushed to his side without my brain fully processing my actions. Mrs. Crane took to her husband's other side, and together, we helped him stand.

"I've spoken to General Washington," Katrina began. "He insisted that you come home, and recuperate before returning to active duty."

"That won't be necess-"

"Ichabod, you nearly died, and you can barely stand. You need time to heal. General Washington recognizes this. You're too valuable a soldier in this war to take chances with. The General promised he'd stop by the house in a week or so. Don't worry, my love, you won't be sitting idle for long."

There was more to her words than she was revealing, but I decided that I would bring it up to her later. I did my best not to steal glances at Ichabod as we made the short trek through the woods. I didn't know what it was about him. He wasn't even my type, and he was married for crying out loud!

Mercifully, we made it back to the carriage and a waiting Martha and John. John assisted the Cranes into the carriage first. I allowed him to help me only because my height combined with the long, restricting dress I was wearing made climbing into the carriage myself cumbersome.

Since my luck had been so awesome lately, I ended up siting across from Ichabod.

Great...

I turned to look out the small, single window, ignoring the clearing of Martha's throat as I did so, and saw something that made all thoughts of the alluring man sitting across from me vanish from my mind.

Standing just beyond the trees, barely visible as John steered the carriage along the beaten path, was a man with no head.

I looked to the others in the carriage, but they all seemed oblivious to the man's presence, all except Katrina. The look in her eyes answered my unspoken question. This was why I'd been summoned here.


End file.
